


The Affair

by marvelqueen



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Female reader is married to Pietro, Marriage, Pietro is smooth af, Reader-Insert, Romance, Smut, more romance than smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 12:33:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4787423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvelqueen/pseuds/marvelqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Female reader is married to Pietro and they have a little fun role playing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Affair

Pietro left a new dress hanging in the closet with a note telling me to meet him at 7:00pm at Sir Harry’s—a lounge inside the Waldorf Astoria Hotel that would meet at frequently when we first started dating years ago.

The dress was designer. A flirty ruffled silk crepe dress that looked a bit out of the flapper age. There were three ruffled tiers in the front and back. It was short--the way I knew Pietro liked it--and had sheer sleeves.

On top of the dress was a gold necklace and bracelet. And shoes of course. Pietro always bought shoes to match whatever he’d buy me to wear. For tonight, he choose glittered designer stilettos.

I got to the lounge ten minutes early, ordered a vodka tonic, and sat in a lounge chair across form the bar.

At 7 on the dot, Pietro walked into the bar. He was wearing a suit, vest and tie; it was no doubt custom. Pietro wore normal brands, but when it came to going out, everything had to be built just from him. It was more expensive, but also the only way to fit just right over his muscular frame.

“All by yourself tonight?” Pietro asked coyly.

I took a sip from my drink and smiled, “My husband will be here soon.”

“If I were your husband, I’d never leave you alone.” He nodded at the seat in front of me, “May I keep you company until he comes?”

I shrugged.

“Do you have a name?” Pietro asked.

“Perhaps it’s best if you just think of me as a stranger.”

“Ok, stranger.” He smiled, “What do you do when you aren’t hanging out at lounges? Do you have a job, or are you just a bored housewife, who sits around home all day drinking long island ice teas.”

“Who do you think I am?”

Pietro looked me over carefully. “Hmm. You’re too pretty to just sit around all day—you dress like you want people to notice—you have a presence that would make any man give you what you want, so you must have a powerful position.”

“But, I suppose the question really is—what do I want?”

Pietro shrugged. “What every woman wants.”

“Which is?”

“To be pleased—to have every inch of her body aching with the orgasmic sensation of pleasure.”

I hid my smile as I sipped more of my drink.

“Am I right?”

I shrugged, “And what is it that you that you read people so well?”

“I’m a spy.”

I laughed. “Is that even a thing anymore? It seems so 1950s.”

“So you don’t believe me?”

“No.”

“Then what is it that you think I do?”

I carefully looked him over, “You dress too nice to be anything but important.” I paused as I thought, “I’d say something on Wall Street, but…” I reached across the small cocktail table that separated us, and gently felt his arm, “You are much too strong for that.”

“Businessmen can’t be strong?”

“Oh they can, but not like this—they don’t have time for the workouts required to get that kind of muscle.” I thought longer, “And that suit is way too expensive for something like a fireman or cop.”

“So we’re back to spy?”

“And you’d have no trouble blurting out that you are a spy to a random stranger? If you're a spy, then you’re a horrible one.”

“Well it’s like I said—you have the presence to make any man give you what you want.”

“Ok. If you’re a spy then tell me a classified secret.”

“As it happens, I’m actually spying on superheroes—just like your husband. And my latest Intel says he’s stood you up, I’m afraid.”

“I’m sure he would have called.”

“You know how it is—sometimes these things are urgent.”

“Does this secret Intel of yours say what’s so urgent.”

“Of course—a village in Africa has been overtaken by warlords.”

“Sounds like another day at the office.”

He shrugged, “Being a spy, I’m, of course, very thorough—which means I have to know about you. I know you like sushi, and, as luck would have it, I have reservations at {insert a new hip and swanky sushi restaurant}. Perhaps you’d like to join me? There’s no sense getting dressed up for nothing.”

I thought for a moment before playfully saying, “I promised Pietro that we’d try that place together.”

“Can’t keep a secret?”

I shrugged, “I wouldn’t want your reservation to go to waste.”

Pietro smiled, stood and held his hand out to help me up.

# # #

“So you just happened to make reservations here?” I asked as we sat, “On the rare event that my husband flaked out?”

“He has been known to do that,” Pietro smiled, “But actually I had a date myself.”

“Really? Do tell—what exotic wonder does a spy date?”

“Maybe it was my sister,” Pietro joked, making a disturbed face.

“I’m sure it was.” I smiled, “But if it wasn’t—what would she look like? What is your type?”

“Does every guy have to have a type?”

“Of course.”

“Some men are ass men or breast men—I’m captivated by a woman who's confident—someone who turns heads, not because they’re beautiful—though they usually are—but because they’re confident. Someone who walks in a room and knows they’ll have the attention of every man in the room—and the look of every woman who looks with envy at what no cosmetic surgery can ever make.”

“Big tits and ass doesn’t hurt though, right?”

Pietro shrugged and smiled, “I’m only human.”

“And how do I rank on your level of standards?”

“At least an eight—maybe a nine. You have all the right curves if that mattered to me—and you have the confidence that I desire. But like every woman, even you have your insecurities—it’s your weakness. It’s hardly ever there—you're normally confident.”

“And how about my body?” I asked.

“A ten—but you already know that—it all goes back to confidence.”

“But no feature that stands out?”

“What man wouldn’t take pleasure staring at your breast? —and I have to restrain myself from cupping that tight ass.” He paused, “But what really stands out is your face—the way you shyly smile—the charming little laugh. And those lashes—sexy and seductive—they draw me into your curiously enchanting eyes. Your hair is like another person—there’s you and then there’s your hair—it’s full and practically glitters when the moon hits it.” He paused as he looked deep into my eyes and made me skip a breath, “but that’s just your face. I love your legs—it’s like they guide any on lookers eyes to your middle, and make them weep knowing they’ll never have what lies beneath where the two legs join.”

I was flushed red when Pietro finally finished. I started to speak, but the waiter came before we were finished. We ordered our food and the waiter gave Pietro a knowing smirk and Pietro was so proud to have me as his date. 

“But how about you?” Pietro said when the waiter left.

“How about me what?”

“You must have a type—all women do.”

“I like a man who's—not afraid to be in charge.”

“Body type isn’t important, then?”

“Muscle are nice—charm goes a long way. And they have to make me laugh.”

“And how do I rate on your type scale?”

I looked at him a playful stare before saying thoughtfully, “Seven—maybe seven and half or eight. You could be a ten, but it’s hard to see how well built you are with that suit on.”

He shrugged, “And you haven’t even seen my strongest muscle.”

I sipped the glass of wine while carefully sliding off my shoe. I lifted my leg up until it gentle pressed against Pietro’s manhood. He flinched at the unexpected touch. “Knowing about that muscle, maybe a nine and a half.” I playfully said, putting my foot down.

# # #

A town car picked us up after dinner, and Pietro continued to play his role, “I’ll be in town one more night before I have to shipped out for a new assignment—they’ve put me up at the Plaza. Perhaps you’d like to see my suite?”

“I’m sure Pietro will be coming home soon.”

He nodded, “My intel says he’ll be away all night.”

“I’ve never seen a room at The Plaza.”

“Then it’s settled.”

I reclined my head back and seconds later Pietro’s hand was up my dress and was massaging my clit with what felt like a bullet vibrator but were really two of his fingers.

“Ssh,” He motioned his other finger to his lips. As he continued to massage me, he asked, “What’s you favorite part of the city?”

I was getting wet from the sensation and thrill of getting caught, but did my best to answer, “I love the way it never sleeps—no matter the hour, it's always…” we hit a pop hole and a pleasurable sensation went all the way up my spine.

“Always?” Pietro looked at me confused.

“Always awake.” I slowly continued.

He slowly moved his fingers to the tip of my vagina, and I clinched the seat tightly to hold back a moan.

I was near orgasming by the time we got to the hotel, but Pietro stopped before I could climax.

# # #

The room was the Fitzgerald Suit—modeled after The Great Gatsby, of course. Art Deco was everywhere in the room. A dome ceiling, glass chandeliers, antique mirrors, even the towels had the monogram of Jay Gatsby and Daisy. A bookshelf was filled with all of Fitzgerald’s works, and Brooklyn Bridge bookends kept them from falling over. At the end of the shelf was a Gramophone-shaped iPhone speaker.

“Most employers would just put you up in a normal room.” I pointed out.

He shrugged, “Perhaps their normal employees.” He took my hand and led me to the bedroom.

On top of the bed was an eloquently crafted piece of lingerie. Dozens of small gold disks made a glimmering hourglass shape; the front piece was linked to the back by thin gold chains that draped the sides and would surely show off my curves. It looked like it was designed for Cleopatra, but was fitting for the room that Pietro had reserved for the night.

“Who were you planning to bring back up to the room?” I teased running my finger down his chest playfully.

“A spy always has to be ready—you never know.” The more lustful he became, the thicker his accent got.

I held up the piece, and put it against my body, “It fits the room.”

“Would you like to try it on?”

“I’m not sure Pietro would approve.”

“Well Pietro’s not here.”

I bit my lip and nodded, walking slowly towards the bathroom with the lingerie.

“Leave the heels on,” Pietro said as I left.

# # #

 

When I returned to the bedroom, Pietro was sitting on the edge of the bed barefoot with his blazer off, and the top of his shirt upon button—teasing me with the strong chest that was underneath. He held two glasses of champagne. Behind him—between the pillows—was a plate full of strawberries.

“Amazing.” Pietro softly said standing as he admired my curves. He handed me a glass and I slowly drank it.

He lifted me and carried me to the bed and gently laid me down. Hovering over me, he reached over at the plate, and slowly put a strawberry in my mouth. I closed my eyes as he continued to feed me another.

His face went down between my legs as he pulled up my outfit. He kissed my thighs; I tried to pull his head where I really wanted it, but he resisted. As he continued to softly kiss my thighs—higher with ever kiss—his hands reached around and grabbed my ass, lifting me up slightly as his lips where I desired.

I hadn’t dried up since the massage in the town car, and Pietro knew that now as he delightful tasted my juices. As the tip of his tongue went into my pussy, I pushed his face forcefully down, and clinched my fingers around his head as I moaned loudly. My pussy was drenched as his tongue went in out of my pussy, while his finger massaged my clit.

He turned me around on my stomach and used his super speed to remove his clothes; in seconds, his large, erect cock was rubbing between my ass cheeks playfully.

“Put it inside me.” I begged.

He leaned forward, brushed aside my hair and kissed my neck, then my shoulders; he tilted my head to the side and finally began to kiss my lips.

“Please,” I begged again between a kiss, “I’m dripping—I want you so bad.”

Pietro pulled back, grabbed my hips, and pulled my ass up, so I was on all fours with my ass higher then any other part of my body. For several seconds, I felt nothing. I started to turn to see if he had left the room, but his hand kept my head from turning. He was teasing me—making me wait for the thing I wanted most.

Finally, without warning, and with a slow force, his cock went into my vagina from behind. I yelled at both the surprise and delight of the sensation.

His hands reached under my outfit and grabbed each of my breast as he continued to pound me with speed and force. He was being more aggressive then normal and I loved it. I bounced my ass up in sync with each of his thrust—each going into me quicker and stronger then the last.

With a hand still on my right breast, his left hand reached down and massage my clit. He barely touched it, but it was unexpected, and I began to orgasm.

As he felt my tightening, orgasming, pussy, he held each of my hips and trusted me even harder and quicker, until I felt him cumming as well.

I moved my ass back down as he pulled out. He laid next to me and put another strawberry in my mouth. “Still think I’m just a 9.5?”

“I’ll probably need to see it in action a few more times before I decide.”

**Author's Note:**

> [This is your dress](http://www.saksfifthavenue.com/main/ProductDetail.jsp?FOLDER%3C%3Efolder_id=2534374306418059&PRODUCT%3C%3Eprd_id=845524446820771&R=3610925048154&P_name=Chlo%26%23233%3B&N=4294908759+306418059&bmUID=k__Po82)   
>  [This is your suite](http://www.theplazany.com/the-great-gatsby/)   
>  [This is your lingerie](http://www.agentprovocateur.com/us_en/varvara-dress-gold)


End file.
